STOOD at the "back door" of the tent,
the performers' entrance. Beside me, on
the bandwagon, the brassy, insistent
circus band sounded deafening.
The canvas flap of the back door
parted and Rudolf and Gerda Pedrola stepped
in beside me, ready to go on. Over their brief
costumes they wore heavy robes against the
unseasonable April chill that blanketed
Eastman, Georgia.
It was near the end of the evening per
formance of the Hoxie Bros. Gigantic 3-Ring
Circus. The Pedrolas, veterans of the in
credible world of the circus, soon would be
swinging high up near the peak of the big
top, performing their dangerous aerial act
(page 414). Rudolf was 48, a compact, friendly
man with mischievous blue eyes; Gerda was
41 and blond, and she moved with the poise
of a star. They were accustomed to the bright
410
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EDOADM 2~i